


i want you today, tomorrow, next week, and for the rest of our lives.

by bannerenthusiast



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Autistic Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Cuddling & Snuggling, Disabled Character, Disabled Crowley (Good Omens), Dreams, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Hot Chocolate, M/M, Plans For The Future, Rain, Romantic Fluff, Sharing a Bed, Slice of Life, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-28 07:42:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20774984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bannerenthusiast/pseuds/bannerenthusiast
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale spend a rainy night in together, make plans for their future.





	i want you today, tomorrow, next week, and for the rest of our lives.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on an RP with fabalafae22. You can check out their work here. https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabalafae22/gifts

Rain patters against the grimy windows of the bookshop’s upstairs bedroom, thunder rumbles quietly some distance away, and an angel and a demon are tucked safely away in the comfort of said angel’s indulgently fluffy bed, mugs of cocoa in hand. The weather is perfect, in Aziraphale’s opinion, though he doubts the rest of London’s residents would agree. 

A lovely night in, Aziraphale had suggested, after finishing his first bottle of wine. It had been a rather stressful evening dealing with threats from Above, and it was Crowley’s suggestion that they move the departure date of their holiday sooner and stay by each other’s side in the meantime, lest Heaven’s forces become bolder. 

At this particular moment, Aziraphale couldn’t find it in himself to be upset by the situation. Not when he is propped against enough pillows to be considered another of Earth’s wonders, shoulders brushing his partner’s as they sip from their mugs. 

On a whim, he reaches out to take the demon’s hand and gives it a gentle squeeze, one the demon happily returns. When his loving gesture is reciprocated, Aziraphale is quick to finish his cocoa, set his mug aside, and shift ever closer to his demon, body curled into his side like it was never meant to be anywhere else. He wraps his arm snugly around Crowley’s middle. 

Crowley sets his own mug aside and wraps a lanky arm around Aziraphale, snuggles him close as he thinks, and any remaining tension melts from the angel’s shoulders with a slow exhale. After a moment, he finds the right words and murmurs, “Thanks, angel.” 

“Whatever for?” Aziraphale wonders, voice soft as if to preserve the serenity of the moment. 

“Being here, doing nice things.”

Aziraphale smiles. “Oh, well  _ that  _ part isn't particularly difficult. Not at all.” He attempts to hug Crowley properly, whilst laying with his head resting on the demon’s shoulder, and while it was nowhere at the same level as his normal hugs, it still spreads warmth through Crowley’s chest. 

Crowley leisurely pets Aziraphale’s white-blond curls, and Aziraphale’s eyes flutter shut with a pleased sigh. After being starved of touch for so many millenia, he’s finally becoming accustomed to Crowley’s intimate touches, in the months since the apocalypse-that-wasn’t, when they finally,  _ finally _ admitted their feelings for one another. Or, rather, Aziraphale finally found the strength to admit to himself what had been obvious for several thousand years. 

After a moment, he speaks again. “Can’t help but be envious sometimes.” The angel makes a soft, questioning sound. “Perks of being a proper angel, like sensing Love.” 

Aziraphale considers his response. “I'm sure there are plenty of demonic attributes that might leave another being rather envious of you. Not me, of course.” There’s a smile in his voice.

“Oh, of course not. I wouldn't dare insinuate.”

Aziraphale chuckles softly, squeezes Crowley's middle, and Crowley returns the gesture before he releases his angel in favor of inching down to lay flat on his back, aching spine resting against the pillows. The angel is quick to adjust, resettle, and Crowley feels the void in his chest fill as his eyes slip closed. The gooey feeling isn’t exactly  _ new _ for him, mind, but he doesn’t believe he’ll ever properly grow accustomed to it. 

Eventually, he starts to nod off, his breathing slow and even, body clinging less tightly. Aziraphale peers up to study Crowley’s face, the deep lines growing softer as the tempter goes lax beneath him, and he smiles. It wasn’t often he was blessed with the sight of a relaxed and unguarded Crowley, and it fills him with a longing he’s grown quite familiar with, over the years. 

Luckily, he now knows his affections are far more likely to be accepted.

He presses a soft kiss to the demon’s chest, emitting an aura of Warmth and Love as he does so, and Crowley’s eyes flicker open with a soft sound. His head remains still, but his gaze travels down to where the kiss landed. “Mmh?”

“Nothing, my dear. Please, go back to sleep,” Aziraphale whispers. 

He allows his eyes to close, inhales deeply and shifts. “ _ You _ sleep,” Crowley mumbles, “Have good dreams.”

Aziraphale presses another kiss to Crowley’s sternum. “I think we both know that won't happen, dear.” 

Ever since the angel had taken up the practice of sleeping, he’d been plagued with nightmares. Nightmares of falling, of losing his dearest love, of other angels’ rejection and mockery. On one memorable occasion, he had dreamt of nothing at all. He would much rather remain awake, keep company with an old novel or Crowley himself (he’d grown rather fond of watching him sleep).

Crowley sighs and mumbles sleepily. “Dunno, could be. Have hope.”

The angel smiles. “Alright. For you.”

Crowley’s lips twitch upwards around a yawn. “There's a love.” Crowley’s thumb rubs circles into Aziraphale's arm, earning him a happy hum in response. His movements slow until they finally still, and he falls into a light doze, and Aziraphale soon follows, melting like candle wax as his head moves along with the steady rise and fall of Crowley’s chest.

It’s several hours before either awaken, with morning light streaming into the cluttered room. Crowley’s eyes open slowly, then close, and as he turns his neck, his cheek brushes against soft curls. “Mmm…”

Aziraphale, to his surprise, remains deeply asleep, mouth slack as he drools onto Crowley's silk pajamas, his fist curled loosely in the fabric. Crowley struggles to lift his head and looks blearily down at the reason he can't move yet. He finds that it to be a rather adorable reason. 

In a quiet, voice husky with sleep, he murmurs, “Darling angel.”

The angel simply smiles and curls closer into Crowley’s side with a soft, sleepy sound, leaving Crowley wondering if the principality is awake. He doesn’t seem to be, but rather seems to be having a nice rest, enough for him to cozy up with a sweet smile. He observes him for a moment before he allows his head to fall back against the pillows and close his eyes, leisurely rubbing Aziraphale’s back.

It’s several moments before Aziraphale slowly awakens, sporting a warm smile and a soft glow. He yawns into Crowley’s shirt and quietly smacks his lips as his gaze focuses first on the bookshelf beside his bed, then Crowley. In a similarly lovely husky sleep voice, he mumbles, “G'morning.”

“Good morning,” Crowley replies, smile fond. 

Aziraphale makes no move to sit up, and instead hugs Crowley tighter. “Did you sleep well, my dear?”

“Yes. Did you...?”

The angel nods and is happy to do it. “Quite well. I had a lovely dream.”

Auburn brows shoot towards Crowley’s hairline. “Did you now?”

“Mm.” Aziraphale nuzzles black silk. “I was flying, above patches of gorgeously soft cumulonimbus clouds. And I found you sitting upon one. Preposterous, I know, due to the composition of clouds, but - oh, it was so lovely. We had a picnic there.”

Crowley eyes go round with surprise and wonder. “Picnic in the clouds? That  _ is  _ a good dream.”

Aziraphale hums in agreement and sweeps a hand over the fabric of Crowley’s pajamas, tenderly rubbing his side. “It was. Though now I'd quite like to go flying again. It's been some time... Four millennia, I believe.”

Crowley considers this. He doesn't normally fly either, especially given his wing, but... “Could be fun.”

“A nighttime fly... Closer to the stars, that way. Away from humanity’s light pollution,” Aziraphale adds wistfully. He knows just how much the stars meant to Crowley, how much the demon has wanted to take Aziraphale out for a proper tour of them all, or at least the ones he had a hand in creating. The thought is enough to send his heart aflutter, not unlike when a forceful beat of his wings lift him away from the earth.

Crowley hums thoughtfully, intrigued, though he wouldn't want to embarrass or hurt himself. Aziraphale remembers the first time Crowley unsheathed his wings from the In-Between, remembers how one raven wing dipped towards the Earth as if pulled by some unknown force, resting lopsided against his back. It was a heart-breaking sight. He also remembers the ordeal that came with his attempting to heal the poor thing, the bone-deep exhaustion that left both of them incapacitated for weeks to come, of the agony it caused to infuse angelic essence into a demonic host. He would never attempt such a feat again, but vowed to do everything within his power to accommodate such a thing and ease any pain that might come with it, even if that meant he would never fly again. 

He hesitates before asking, unsure of how his question will be received. “Is your wing... might that be possible?”

Crowley, for all his efforts not to show it, is rather surprised that Aziraphale remembers (though really, he shouldn’t be surprised at all). He pauses and decides on a genuine answer, even looks at his angel as he speaks. “I don’t know.” 

“Perhaps you'd like to try? With me? If we can't - well, we could have a lovely picnic in the clearing,” he suggests.

Crowley raises two auburn brows. “In the place I showed you? The meadow?”

“Yes.” Aziraphale’s smile turns shy. “We could stargaze, as we discussed before.”

Crowley lips twitch, and his heart flutters uselessly against his ribs. “All right… Four millennia since your last flight? I've flown more recently than you have.” He inches closer. “Perhaps I still can and you've forgotten how,” he teases.

“Perhaps you're right,” Aziraphale says lightly. “I suppose you'll have to help me remember how.” 

Crowley’s lips curl at the flirtation, the innocent suggestion. “No problem.”

Aziraphale wiggles where he lies, and Crowley’s smile widens further. “Then I'm rather excited for our night out together.”

“Sounds like fun. Will this be before or after our holiday?”

Aziraphale considers. “Why not before?”  _ The sooner the better _ , Aziraphale thinks.

Satisfied, Crowley nods and closes his eyes. “Okay.”

Aziraphale lifts his chin to gaze at Crowley properly, eyes round with hope. In a tone remarkably similar to his time in the Globe Theater, he asks, “Oh, really?”

“As you said, why not?”

Aziraphale’s cheeks begin to ache with the effort of containing his smile, and his fingers flutter happily at the promise of going on a proper date with his beloved, where they would be  _ flying  _ no less - it was just about one of the best feelings in the world, in his humble opinion. 

Crowley chuckles, content and warm as he basks in the sweet, lazy morning air, not unlike a snake in the perfect beam of golden light. “Looking forward to it, angel.”


End file.
